When I think of political poetry I think of poetry that makes a statement about power relations between people, peoples, nations, etc. Rarely does someone write poetry of a utopian political condition. Most often, the poet emphasizes the unequal and often unjust and abusive power of one over another. According to this definition all of Barrett Browning’s poems that we read for Monday suit, as well as those mentioned by Jose and Cara. (I will not rename them.) I do wonder if “Goblin Market” could be considered political? What do you think? From my definition of political poetry stated above, I am not sure because the subjects in the poem, namely sisters as one group and goblins another, have interactions of power. Laura succumbs to the goblin’s power and Lizzie transposes it from the goblins to herself. So, in thinking aloud (rather typing) I would say that “Goblin Market” is a political poem as well. In “Goblin Market” power relations exchange and transfer rather than remain stable as in the poems “The Cry of the Children” and “A Curse for a Nation” whose subjects remain stable under subjection to those in “higher” power.
But another thought came to mind in reading the poems and the responses. That is the power or words, specifically poetry, to actually influence the political mind-set of readers because of the empathy the lines incite. The Barrett Browning poems are some of the most moving poems that I have ever read. “The Runaway Slave at Pilgrim’s Point” OMG.--heavy, heavy stuff. How could anyone hire a child or keep a slave having read their words?
Political poetry makes me mindful of soliciting funds for our NGO. Others, more experienced, have told us that the best motivators for prompting financial giving are to appeal to the mind (reason) and the heart (emotion). When one is moved by both, most often that person will be compelled to institute a change within their own ability, in this case giving of money. I posit that all of the poets we have read have utilized the skill of appealing to reason and emotion through the delivery of their poetry. Lines in Barrett Browning’s “The Runaway Slave” are an appropriate example:
Ha, ha! They are on me – they hunt in a ring!
Keep off! I brave you all at once,
I throw off your eyes like snakes that sting!
You have killed the black eagle at nest, I think:
Did you ever stand still in your triumph, and shrink
From the stroke of her wounded wing? (205-210)
Here Barrett Browning forces the white man, and reader, to pause and contemplate the actions and consequences of slavery and its effects; both mind and heart are provoked.
Cara explained, “Political poems tend to do very well in slam competitions, in part because of the intensity and wide appeal of their content.” I believe that she speaks of the emotional intensity that rises when important and heated issues are addressed. So whether two hundred years old or two days, poetry imbues power. As for political poetry, I cannot think of any political issues which do not incur emotion. Unless, of course, if the reader has a conscious stance of indifference. Even then, I argue he/she would be moved if they read Barrett Browning.
Works Cited Barrett Browning, Elizabeth. “The Runaway Slave at Pilgrim’s Point.” Victorian Women Poets.
Ed. Virginia Blain. Harlow: Pearson Longman, 2009. 63-71. Print.
Nicol Epple ENG 764 Writing Response- Wk 3, Inheritance Dr. Williamson posted a question, “How have the writers we have read since Corinne responded to the idea that the role of the woman writer is to provide guidance for the reader, to orient the reader to new worlds?” I believe that within this question is an assumption that these women writers felt that they had responsibilities as women writers. And after reading their texts, I agree that indeed it seems that these writers convey this responsibility through the work. Such is truly an interesting case of inheritance. Within the context of history and contemporary culture, we can understand why women writers inherit this compulsion to bring greater understanding to women as writers and women writers and their worlds. But what does this feeling of needing to fulfill this role as a writer do to the writer’s creativity? Corinne unabashed in her imagination and improvisation celebrates her creativity. I could posit that in writing this narrative, de Stael is doing so as well. But when writing of characters that are not so “extreme,” what happens to creativity? Initially, I was thinking that the responsibility would thwart creativity in a confining manner. But when I think of Fields, Rossetti, and even Austen, these women rose to the occasion and succeeded; they indeed orient their readers to new worlds. The alliance of the two lesbian authors who composite Michael Fields seems as though would be an unprecedented case. Even by today’s standards their situation and execution in writing seems outrageous. Yet, they did not water-down, or rather conform, their imagination to mold to contemporary standards set for literature. They resurrected the writings of Sappho and wrote of gods, goddesses, love, erotica, power, and inspiration, intersecting topics presented in new forms for their audience. Rossetti also wrote beyond marriage and the domestic. She tackled the messiness of relationships, what happens when a poor, young woman falls in love mistakenly with a man and is left with only his child as a keepsake of their love. Austen challenges her readers to rethink entrenched ideologies of class, etiquette, morals, authority, and so much more. I wonder if these women writers having the feeling of responsibility to their readers as women in the back of their minds, didn’t just write and let the outcome fall where it may. In other words, that responsibility was probably somewhere in their subconscious but it was their creativity that propelled them and the creativity forming somewhat to that conscience delivered works that could be nothing but inspiration to women as writing from women. Thinking of Rossetti specifically, now. She wrote of life and death and all that in between. Issues beyond just marriage. She wrote of issues that affect women as persons. To answer the question, “What happens when issues other than marriage take priority for women writers?” I posit that beautiful things happen.Nicol_Wk3_Inheritance
Nicol Epple
Wk 3-Monday Inspiration As to what Fanny may have said when reading the poetry of Michael Field can only be speculation on my part, but speculation contrived from the presentation of Fanny’s character thus far in the first two volumes of Mansfield Park. I will share my thoughts, Fanny’s thoughts, of two poems.
Poem XIV from Michael Field discloses the sensual love. The narrator addresses “Atthis” as “my darling” (211). Since Atthis was historically famed as a pupil of Sappho, one can assume that the narrator is also a woman, probably Sappho. The two share a bed, the fact of which is exposed by the dawning light (15). Assuming the poem speaks of two women, this line makes the same-sex relationship explicit. I am not familiar with gay culture during this time outside of Oscar Wilde. I can only imagine that society condemned and ostracized those who practiced same-sex relationships. The love described in this poem does not wax erotic, rather real and soul-felt. The narrator seems to fear both the death of Atthis (4) and her own (17-18). But in this fear, there is a sense of peaceful resignation in the truth that “our breath/ Nor light nor darkness shall divide” (211). What would fanny say to this? I assume Fanny’s conscience, her inner guide, to be based and formed from Protestantism, or more accurately English Anglicanism. Thus, Fanny would have disapproved such a breach of ethics of homosexuality whole-heartedly. Of course, she would have kept her thoughts to herself.
I especially love the sensual and erotic lure of the lines from Field’s poem, “Leonardo da Vinci.” The poem consists of only eleven lines and in reading the first five lines I could almost imagine Fanny appreciating their art. The notes state that the subject of da Vinci’s gaze is Mona Lisa. The first five lines describe her face: “A smile of velvet’s lustre on the cheek;/ Calm lips the smile leads upward; hand that lies/ Glowing and soft, the patience in its rest” (1-3). At this point in reading I conceive that Fanny would have felt somewhat uncomfortable by the intimacy of this physical, and perhaps emotional, closeness. Though, still I could imagine her appreciating this depiction. But in reading the following titillating verses, I feel Fanny’s blush: “Of cruelty that waits and doth not seek/ For prey; a dusky forehead and a breast/ Where twilight touches ripeness amorously” (5-7). “TMI!” says Fanny. Such erotic expression of love is inappropriate to speak of, let alone to write about for the public! Well, that’s my rendition of Fanny’s comment on that. Of course, Fanny would not divulge her thoughts unless you were to ask her. The last lines of the poem develop the subject within the setting of nature and are aesthetically pleasing to the eye, ear, and imagination. The last line gives the climax of da Vinci’s thoughts of Mona Lisa, “For those vicissitudes by which men die” (11). After, looking up the meaning of “vicissitude” I appreciate the appreciation of the nuances of beauty that da Vinci beholds. But I would have to say that as yet Fanny has shown me no behavior of character to think that she would appreciate such deep and deeply felt sentiments. Yes, Fanny feels. The citation that comes closest to Fanny having heightened or deep emotions is this: “She had nothing more to wish for. She had hardly ever been in a state so nearly approaching high spirits” (281). But notice that is the end of it. Her feelings are stated—the depiction of which is quite lack-luster indeed—and then Fanny shows no outwardly physical expression of such joy. The realization of Fanny’s cool reserve along with my own appreciation of this poem makes me a little disappointed in her. If I were standing in the Louvre gazing at the Mona Lisa listening to this poem I would want Corinne beside me to share the experience, not Fanny.
ENG 764
Writing Response Wk 3_Weekend
When I think of political poetry I think of poetry that makes a statement about power relations between people, peoples, nations, etc. Rarely does someone write poetry of a utopian political condition. Most often, the poet emphasizes the unequal and often unjust and abusive power of one over another. According to this definition all of Barrett Browning’s poems that we read for Monday suit, as well as those mentioned by Jose and Cara. (I will not rename them.) I do wonder if “Goblin Market” could be considered political? What do you think? From my definition of political poetry stated above, I am not sure because the subjects in the poem, namely sisters as one group and goblins another, have interactions of power. Laura succumbs to the goblin’s power and Lizzie transposes it from the goblins to herself. So, in thinking aloud (rather typing) I would say that “Goblin Market” is a political poem as well. In “Goblin Market” power relations exchange and transfer rather than remain stable as in the poems “The Cry of the Children” and “A Curse for a Nation” whose subjects remain stable under subjection to those in “higher” power.
But another thought came to mind in reading the poems and the responses. That is the power or words, specifically poetry, to actually influence the political mind-set of readers because of the empathy the lines incite. The Barrett Browning poems are some of the most moving poems that I have ever read. “The Runaway Slave at Pilgrim’s Point” OMG.--heavy, heavy stuff. How could anyone hire a child or keep a slave having read their words?
Political poetry makes me mindful of soliciting funds for our NGO. Others, more experienced, have told us that the best motivators for prompting financial giving are to appeal to the mind (reason) and the heart (emotion). When one is moved by both, most often that person will be compelled to institute a change within their own ability, in this case giving of money. I posit that all of the poets we have read have utilized the skill of appealing to reason and emotion through the delivery of their poetry. Lines in Barrett Browning’s “The Runaway Slave” are an appropriate example:
Ha, ha! They are on me – they hunt in a ring!
Keep off! I brave you all at once,
I throw off your eyes like snakes that sting!
You have killed the black eagle at nest, I think:
Did you ever stand still in your triumph, and shrink
From the stroke of her wounded wing? (205-210)
Here Barrett Browning forces the white man, and reader, to pause and contemplate the actions and consequences of slavery and its effects; both mind and heart are provoked.
Cara explained, “Political poems tend to do very well in slam competitions, in part because of the intensity and wide appeal of their content.” I believe that she speaks of the emotional intensity that rises when important and heated issues are addressed. So whether two hundred years old or two days, poetry imbues power. As for political poetry, I cannot think of any political issues which do not incur emotion. Unless, of course, if the reader has a conscious stance of indifference. Even then, I argue he/she would be moved if they read Barrett Browning.
Works Cited
Barrett Browning, Elizabeth. “The Runaway Slave at Pilgrim’s Point.” Victorian Women Poets.
Ed. Virginia Blain. Harlow: Pearson Longman, 2009. 63-71. Print.
Nicol Epple
ENG 764
Writing Response- Wk 3, Inheritance
Dr. Williamson posted a question, “How have the writers we have read since Corinne responded to the idea that the role of the woman writer is to provide guidance for the reader, to orient the reader to new worlds?” I believe that within this question is an assumption that these women writers felt that they had responsibilities as women writers. And after reading their texts, I agree that indeed it seems that these writers convey this responsibility through the work. Such is truly an interesting case of inheritance. Within the context of history and contemporary culture, we can understand why women writers inherit this compulsion to bring greater understanding to women as writers and women writers and their worlds. But what does this feeling of needing to fulfill this role as a writer do to the writer’s creativity?
Corinne unabashed in her imagination and improvisation celebrates her creativity. I could posit that in writing this narrative, de Stael is doing so as well. But when writing of characters that are not so “extreme,” what happens to creativity? Initially, I was thinking that the responsibility would thwart creativity in a confining manner. But when I think of Fields, Rossetti, and even Austen, these women rose to the occasion and succeeded; they indeed orient their readers to new worlds. The alliance of the two lesbian authors who composite Michael Fields seems as though would be an unprecedented case. Even by today’s standards their situation and execution in writing seems outrageous. Yet, they did not water-down, or rather conform, their imagination to mold to contemporary standards set for literature. They resurrected the writings of Sappho and wrote of gods, goddesses, love, erotica, power, and inspiration, intersecting topics presented in new forms for their audience. Rossetti also wrote beyond marriage and the domestic. She tackled the messiness of relationships, what happens when a poor, young woman falls in love mistakenly with a man and is left with only his child as a keepsake of their love. Austen challenges her readers to rethink entrenched ideologies of class, etiquette, morals, authority, and so much more.
I wonder if these women writers having the feeling of responsibility to their readers as women in the back of their minds, didn’t just write and let the outcome fall where it may. In other words, that responsibility was probably somewhere in their subconscious but it was their creativity that propelled them and the creativity forming somewhat to that conscience delivered works that could be nothing but inspiration to women as writing from women. Thinking of Rossetti specifically, now. She wrote of life and death and all that in between. Issues beyond just marriage. She wrote of issues that affect women as persons.
To answer the question, “What happens when issues other than marriage take priority for women writers?” I posit that beautiful things happen.Nicol_Wk3_Inheritance
Nicol Epple
Wk 3-Monday
Inspiration
As to what Fanny may have said when reading the poetry of Michael Field can only be speculation on my part, but speculation contrived from the presentation of Fanny’s character thus far in the first two volumes of Mansfield Park. I will share my thoughts, Fanny’s thoughts, of two poems.
Poem XIV from Michael Field discloses the sensual love. The narrator addresses “Atthis” as “my darling” (211). Since Atthis was historically famed as a pupil of Sappho, one can assume that the narrator is also a woman, probably Sappho. The two share a bed, the fact of which is exposed by the dawning light (15). Assuming the poem speaks of two women, this line makes the same-sex relationship explicit. I am not familiar with gay culture during this time outside of Oscar Wilde. I can only imagine that society condemned and ostracized those who practiced same-sex relationships. The love described in this poem does not wax erotic, rather real and soul-felt. The narrator seems to fear both the death of Atthis (4) and her own (17-18). But in this fear, there is a sense of peaceful resignation in the truth that “our breath/ Nor light nor darkness shall divide” (211). What would fanny say to this? I assume Fanny’s conscience, her inner guide, to be based and formed from Protestantism, or more accurately English Anglicanism. Thus, Fanny would have disapproved such a breach of ethics of homosexuality whole-heartedly. Of course, she would have kept her thoughts to herself.
I especially love the sensual and erotic lure of the lines from Field’s poem, “Leonardo da Vinci.” The poem consists of only eleven lines and in reading the first five lines I could almost imagine Fanny appreciating their art. The notes state that the subject of da Vinci’s gaze is Mona Lisa. The first five lines describe her face: “A smile of velvet’s lustre on the cheek;/ Calm lips the smile leads upward; hand that lies/ Glowing and soft, the patience in its rest” (1-3). At this point in reading I conceive that Fanny would have felt somewhat uncomfortable by the intimacy of this physical, and perhaps emotional, closeness. Though, still I could imagine her appreciating this depiction. But in reading the following titillating verses, I feel Fanny’s blush: “Of cruelty that waits and doth not seek/ For prey; a dusky forehead and a breast/ Where twilight touches ripeness amorously” (5-7). “TMI!” says Fanny. Such erotic expression of love is inappropriate to speak of, let alone to write about for the public! Well, that’s my rendition of Fanny’s comment on that. Of course, Fanny would not divulge her thoughts unless you were to ask her. The last lines of the poem develop the subject within the setting of nature and are aesthetically pleasing to the eye, ear, and imagination. The last line gives the climax of da Vinci’s thoughts of Mona Lisa, “For those vicissitudes by which men die” (11). After, looking up the meaning of “vicissitude” I appreciate the appreciation of the nuances of beauty that da Vinci beholds. But I would have to say that as yet Fanny has shown me no behavior of character to think that she would appreciate such deep and deeply felt sentiments. Yes, Fanny feels. The citation that comes closest to Fanny having heightened or deep emotions is this: “She had nothing more to wish for. She had hardly ever been in a state so nearly approaching high spirits” (281). But notice that is the end of it. Her feelings are stated—the depiction of which is quite lack-luster indeed—and then Fanny shows no outwardly physical expression of such joy. The realization of Fanny’s cool reserve along with my own appreciation of this poem makes me a little disappointed in her. If I were standing in the Louvre gazing at the Mona Lisa listening to this poem I would want Corinne beside me to share the experience, not Fanny.